The space to write

current space

Wee hours of morning, hard to sleep again
Night is quieter at this time; know this, friend
Hawk circling ’round the bunny in my head
Sometimes I wonder, how am I still not dead?

Gotta throw away my kettle, inside something’s green
Dishwasher scent wrinkles, afraid of these unseen
Waiting for sunrise, then I know I survived
Gaslighted by the likeable, biding my time.

ideal space

Food aplenty, clean and free
Laughter permeating, persons whom be
Light as gracing those I love
Darkness as blessing, their signs as above.

Warmth in air with a cool breeze
Draw inspiration from walks along the seas
A home no longer that distant wish
Wading with the ocean, swish and swish.

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